


sweet snow

by laurelsalexis



Series: Kinktober 2018 [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Kinktober 2018, Outdoor Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-23 18:46:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16164707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laurelsalexis/pseuds/laurelsalexis
Summary: Of course, for what he has in mind the Godswood is not where they should be.





	sweet snow

**Author's Note:**

> day two of [kinktober](http://laurelsalexis.tumblr.com/post/178436560511/kinktober-2018) . 
> 
> #2 ; Begging 
> 
> In full disclosure none of these really screamed out to me so this isn't my favorite thing I've ever written, but I'm sure someone out there will appreciate it.

So rarely does fall seem to come to Winterfell. A season, much like spring, that only lasts for a few passing moons. If they are lucky. For the North, it seems as if fall only consists of lighter snows, though ones heavier than the ones that come in the summer, and the impending panic that soon winter will be upon them. A season that is all too harsh.

It is fall now, however, as Robb walks through the courtyard in the center of Winterfell. Everyone around him is working as they make certain they will survive the winter. Not everyone will, he knows. A fact that does not sit well with him but it is simply a truth none of them are to escape. If the Gods are kind the losses will be minimal and when spring comes to relieve them of all the snow and harsh conditions they will be better off.

If the Gods are truly kind winter will not last as long as this past summer has.

Robb cannot exactly say the Gods are particularly kind.

It is not the Gods nor the impending winter that is much on his mind, even as he keeps an eye on everyone, and as he is stopped a few times to discuss certain matters. Normally he is far more receptive than he is now, even coming up with solutions to a few of the problems that arise. He’ll apologize later and come up with some excuse as to his seeming disinterest.

Margaery is the only one that is on his mind as he does his best to seek her out without making it seem as if he is in search of something. He doesn’t want why he needs to see her to become obvious.

After a few moments he does manage to find his beloved wife. She is standing with a few of the women she often relies on. She is busy with all that need to be done, but he does not think for a moment that she will actually be upset at what is upon his mind. Her swelling stomach is further proof of that.

Robb walks up to her and places his hand on the small of her back, standing there as they continue the conversation as if he is not there at all. He simply smiles. In truth, he is not listening much. Rather he is so focused on the throbbing ache deep in the pit of his stomach, even going as far as to lean slightly into his wife.

“Excuse us.” Margaery says softly after a few moments and the ladies leave without saying much of anything at all.

“Robb.” Margaery greets, a smile on her face, looking up at her husband, placing a hand on her stomach. “You look up to something.”

“Nothing.” He swears even though it is nothing but a lie. The smirk proves as much. “Walk with me.”

Margaery raises an eyebrow at him before she takes his arm.

He walks with her through the rest of the courtyard and to the entrance to the Godswood without saying much at all. It’s his attempt to remain coy. Only he is not being very coy at all, not with Margaery. She knows him far too well. They enter the Godswood as the snow flurries fall on them with increased weight and speed.

“It’s snowing.” Margaery tells him as she gives him a glance out of the corner of her eye.

“Aye.” He notes that it is, soon to be heavily, definitely making this a poor idea. “We’ll have to keep each other warm.”

Margaery doesn’t say anything but keeps a smirk across her lips. She’s adjusted quite well to the weather. Though soon even he with the Stark blood will be quite cool as the snow coats every inch of the place, leaving only the hot springs to bring any warmth.

They walk until they are both where the heart tree is. When he was younger it was a spot in which he could always find his father. Now it is a place he often visits alone. On occasion Margaery will join him, much like she is with him now.

Of course, for what he has in mind the Godswood is not where they should be.

There are plenty of spaces around Winterfell where they can enjoy their time together where it would not seem as if they are breaking any sacred bond between them and the Gods. The Gods that are meant to be looking after them in the purest of ways.

In other ways it is the only spot outside of their shared chambers they can manage to find some to be alone with one another. For as big as Winterfell is it can seem so small sometimes, as if there is a sibling or guest in every inch. They get creative, regardless.

He will call sneaking off to the Godswood creative.

No time is wasted before he has her up against a tree, kissing her like he has been deprived. He hasn’t. There is no question there is a very specific reason as to why he brings her out there. He wants her. Just the thoughts of her start to make him harden in the confines of his breeches.

Ever since their wedding it seems he has little ability to control himself when it comes to her. Margaery can be doing the simplest of things and there he is with a desperate need. He needs her in all the ways he did not think possible. For so long he listened to Theon’s stories. They were entertaining, certainly, and they made him curious, but nothing much came of it when he was growing up. Not until he found himself with Margaery did he realize how good a warm cunt felt.

Her hand moves to the front of his breeches, palm flat, rubbing against him with purpose, through the fabric. “Is this what you desire, Your Grace?”

“Yes.” He moans, unable to hold back, nipping at her lips.

“Is this what you were thinking about?” She whispers, voice low, looking at her husband.

“Yes.” He breathes against her lips, pulling at her dress.

Margaery stops him, hands covering him. “Not yet.”

Robb nearly pouts but manages to find a way to compose himself. Just _barely_.

“Tell me.”

He notices the way the tables turn on him all too quickly. Usually he is the one drawing their moments out and making it so she is the one that is near begging for him to finally have this way with her.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” he begins, pushing himself against her hand, wishing it was the warmth of her skin he was feeling over anything else, “your _cunt_. That sweet wet cunt that tastes like heaven no gods could bring, want to be buried in it, fucking you until you cum all over my cock.”

“Very vivid image there, Your Grace.” Margaery tells him as she undoes the laces of his breeches, a mischievous glint in her eye.

“Yes.”

Her hand wraps around his throbbing wanting cock, a light touch. “Do you want my mouth?”

“Yes.” He answers without giving it a second thought. He will take whatever she is willing to give to him.

“But I thought you desired my cunt.” Her thumb circles the tip of his cock, looking at her husband as if she isn’t doing anything at all.

“Your mouth is perfect, too. You look so perfect with my cock between those lips,” he murmurs, rubbing his thumb over the bottom of her lip, wishing to touch her as she is touching him, “looking at me with those pretty eyes.”

She’s pleased with the statement and takes his thumb into her mouth.

“Your mouth would feel even better on my cock.”

It’s a suggestion that she takes as she slips down to her knees. The light flurries of snow are beneath her, but she shows no care for it. Instead she strokes his cock, it being free in the cold air now, fully hard, desperate for touch. She does not waste any time in using her mouth on him, sucking at his tip as she looks up at him, using her tongue around him, giving a moan so the vibrations run through him, the innocent eyes she gives him doing little to help any semblance of control he is trying to portray.

His fingers thread through her hair as she takes him further into her mouth. She’s a sight, making him throb more, giving some encouragement that is not as gentle as he should be. It’s difficult to do anything but want to be down her throat, making her suck him, until he’s spilling his seed down her throat.

She doesn’t keep her mouth on him long, however, stopping without saying anything. Rather she settles back as she looks up at him, blinking, licking at her lips.

“What are you doing?” Or in that case not doing.

Margaery doesn’t touch him or even reply, not as she watches him, for a moment. Her gaze drops back down to his cock. “Mayhaps I should leave you here like this, Your Grace.”

“You wouldn't.” Even if she knows that she would, she really would.

“You seem very eager.”

He doesn’t say anything as the arousal runs through what feels like every inch of him. He’s painfully aware that he’s there, exposed, his wife down on her knees doing nothing. He misses the warmth of her mouth and the way she looked down there. He has half a mind to take himself in hand. All he wants to do is cum and cares so little about where.

“Ask me nicely.” She smiles through her words.

“Margaery.”

“Ask.” The word a bit more commanding.

“Margaery, _please_.”

“Yes?”

It’s a bit of revenge for the night before, where he was the one having her tell him what she wanted, needed, the way she desired it. It never fails. He enjoys it, even now, as he stands before her, wanting to find his release. “Suck my cock.”

“ _Please_.”

“Please,” he adds, a tone given just to be a bit difficult, “suck my cock.”

Margaery is satisfied, leaning forward, grabbing his cock again. She wastes no time in drawing her husband into her mouth, using her tongue to hit all the spots that he loves the most, gripping at his balls to only make him feel better, to feel the pleasure ripple through every last inch of him. Half forgotten they are out in the cold with a heart tree staring at them.

They are married. Hardly any offense.

He’s lost in the pleasure, so ready to cum, right there, for her. All for her. Until she stops.

Robb looks down at her barely able to register the way she picks up her skirts and gets on her knees, leaving forward, leaving her ass exposed to him.

“Fuck me.” She tells him, bold and brazen, knowing exactly what she wants.

There’s no time wasted as he drops down to his knees, finding himself behind her, his cock rubbing against her cunt. He doesn’t enter her, not yet, not when he knows that they both want this too much and he needs to tease her. He could enter her in a swift motion and fuck her, right there, make her scream his name as he takes advantage of that all too perfect cunt. He could make it so she’s constantly on edge until he’s filled her, watch as he spills from her. It’s such a lewd image and still, one of his favorites.

“You love doing that, don’t you?” He whispers in hear ear as some of his weight is on her, chest to back, them both still covered in most of their clothes.

“ _Robb_.” She whispers, whines, pushing herself back against him, doing anything to get more friction than she currently has.

“I can feel how wet you are on my cock.” He reaches around and finds her clit, slowly circling it, giving her the first ounce of pleasure she’s been on the receiving end of all afternoon.

Her moans are louder, taking advantage of where they are, alone. “Tease.”

“Tell me how much you want me.”

“I want you.” She tells him what he wants to hear, doing everything in her power to get what she needs from him, pleasure. Any pleasure.

“To do what?” He’s beginning to feel as if he is torturing himself, even as he pushes against her harder, feeling her dripping on his cock, coating him, wanting to only feel more of it.

“To fuck me.”

“ _Please_.”

“Please.” There’s a huff in the word.

“I don’t know if I believe you.”

“Robb, please.” She whispers, bucking against his hand. “Fuck me, I need it. I need your cock. _Please_.”

There’s something pleasing about hearing the words come from her. Usually there’s far more push and pull, with her teasing him in return, but now, now it doesn’t matter. He pushes the tip of his cock inside of her, biting back a moan, feeling the first wave of wet warmth.

“Robb, please.” She repeats, looking back at him, letting out the softest of moans as he doesn’t stop his attention to her clit.

He doesn’t move, rather he just watches as she pushes herself back on him, until his cock is within her. He bites down on his lower lip, trying to not let her know how good he feels. It doesn’t work. Not when she starts moving, faster, harder, taking what she wants from him. Even her own hand comes to move his out of the way, giving herself the attention she needs.

His hand grips at her hip, holding her steady, thrusting into her without abandon. He doesn’t play coy any longer, does not let anything but pleasure rule his every move. It’s what they both need now. The way he finds himself hot from the actions, the burning raw desire only making him further thrust into her.

His teeth sink into her neck as he pulls her towards him, gripping at her tits through her dress, letting her take what she needs from him.

The sound is them, just them, together, the snow flurries falling on both of them, as they forget about their surroundings, leaving just them there.

“I love you.” He whispers into her ear.

“Don’t stop.” She cries, finding herself working harder. “ _Robb_.”

Her orgasm rips through her, causing her to shake in his grip, tighten around his cock, let the action overwhelm her completely, crying out his name. Robb doesn’t take long to follow, spilling within her, kissing at her neck as her name slips from past his lips.

They remain there for a moment before Robb falls back onto his ass, lying in the mess of snow and dirt, pulling his wife on top of him.

“Perhaps not the worst use of time.” She teases and turns back to look at him.

“No, definitely not.”  


**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr.](http://laurelsalexis.tumblr.com/)


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